Caught
by LianneZ4
Summary: Peter Burke would be disappointed if he made it too easy on him, Neal thinks as he runs. Pre-series AU.


**CAUGHT**

 **Summary:** Peter Burke would be disappointed if he made it too easy on him, Neal thinks as he runs. Pre-series AU, pre-Peter/Neal.

 _ **A/N:**_ _I wrote this fic for Fandom Stocking a year ago; finally got around to posting it. Ahem…_

* * *

The FBI manages to surprise him.

If he had the time, Neal would wonder how they tracked him down. Instead he looks around for escape routes, because prison doesn't sound like fun and he certainly isn't going to just sit down and surrender.

 _Besides, Neal thinks sarcastically even as he battles fear and panic, Peter Burke would be disappointed if he made it too easy on him._

He slips out through the fire escape, and soon he finds himself on the rooftop.

"Stop right there!"

Only Burke is behind him now, but he is too far to tackle Neal and too decent to shoot him. Taking advantage of the agent's restraint, Neal barely glimpses back as he starts climbing down a narrow ladder. By now, Burke has surely alerted the other agents to his new position. He needs to get down fast to have any chance of getting away. The ladder is long and Neal's heart hammering in his chest, and he hurries as he hears the man approaching; he glimpses upwards and sees Burke about ten meters above him–

–and then his foot slips. His stomach drops as he tries to grab to something, anything and only finds empty air–

 _falling_

 _falling too fast no please it'll hurt grab something he's too young to die–_

And then the pain explodes as he hits something –

It takes Neal a few seconds before he realizes that he didn't crash into the ground. Is he… _floating?_

The pain is coming from his shoulders and midsection, but it's not the sharp pain of crushed bones. Blinking, Neal realizes that there are strong arms enveloped around him –

 _Burke's arms._

Peter Burke is holding him as they're suspended mid-air. And then Neal hears the beat of wings as the agent slowly, carefully takes them both down.

Neal swallows when his feet safely touch the ground. Dimly, he realizes that Burke's arms are still wrapped tightly around him. And then the reality of what _almost_ happened catches up with him.

"Are you crazy?!" Burke yells at him.

"I don't think so, no," replies Neal distantly. Against his will, he can feel his body tremble.

"Of all the stupid stunts… Are you all right?"

The anger in the agent's voice is replaced by concern.

"Yeah…"

And then the cold metal snaps around his wrists. "Neal Caffrey, you're under arrest…"

 _Handcuffs._

The agent is telling his something about his rights. But the rest of the FBI team is not there yet. He could still escape. He _should_ run.

Afraid and intrigued and slightly nauseated, Neal can't get his feet to move.

Burke has caught him. _Peter_ has caught him, saving Neal's life or at least protecting him from a serious injury.

Peter has a hand on Neal's arm, keeping him straight. It should be constraining, but instead it feels soothing. _Did Peter mean it that way?_

With his hands cuffed, Neal stares at the agent, taking in the lines in his face, the kind brown eyes, and most of all, the wings sprouting out of Peter's back.

"You ripped up your suit."

Peter stops his recitation of Neal's Miranda rights. "Yeah, well, I wasn't going to let you splash on the pavement."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I didn't know you were Winged," says Neal with a hint of awe. "They're magnificent."

"Wow, thank you, Caffrey," says Peter flatly. Neal gets the feeling he doesn't like people looking at them.

"Sorry," Neal says with a shrug. And then because he can't stop himself from poking, "I always thought you had no taste in clothes. Makes sense now, though. If you have to replace your jacket every time you need to release your wings–"

"My suits are fine," Peter retorts irritably.

"Umm, they're really not."

"They're perfectly functional and completely appropriate for an FBI agent–"

"Oh _please_. You could do so much better. You're in a pretty good shape – these suits do you no justice. The tie doesn't help of course – I could help you pick one–"

"Is he actually flirting with you, boss?" asks an amused voice behind him.

Startled, Neal turns his head around. There's a young black woman, dressed in a suit.

 _Flirting?_

Peter smiles at her. "Hey Diana. Look who we caught."

"Jones and the rest will be there in a moment," says Diana. "Neal Caffrey. Nice to meet you."

Then the rest of the team appears before they can talk some more. The agents observe Neal with satisfaction, mistrust and even a dash of contempt and curiosity. They're convinced they have won, and now they plan to take him to the FBI. Fair enough – Neal still has a few tricks up his sleeves.

 _Did she say flirting?_

Internally, Neal shakes his head. He needs to focus on his escape.

o - o - o

Half a day later, Neal is at one of Mozzie's hideouts, nursing a glass of wine. He'll have to lay low a few days before he can even attempt to get out of town.

 _Pity about that._

Suddenly grinning, Neal thinks back to Peter Burke. He was cute, getting all flustered when Neal teased him about the clothes. His chest was pretty strong, at least what Neal have glimpsed through the half-opened shirt. And Peter's hands…

 _Oh god, that Diana woman was right. He_ had _been flirting._

So what? He flirted all the time. It was simply part of his charm, nothing more.

Right.

 _Peter seemed nice. And also really hot. And even though he put Neal in cuffs, he first checked him for injuries and asked if he was okay. And he was smart – really smart. Neal wonders how Peter found him in the first place…_

Neal swallows.

He is attracted to Peter Burke, the FBI who arrested him tonight. _(The man who caught him.)_

Mozzie's going to kill him.

This isn't good. This isn't good at all.

Peter is the enemy. He'll put Neal in prison if he gets his way. He is _(kind, caring, decent)_ an FBI agent. Even Neal, with his reckless streak wide a mile, knows this can't end well.

He is overreacting, Neal decides then. It's just hormones – an adrenaline rush, caused by the fall and Peter catching him. It doesn't mean anything.

Not Peter. Burke. The man's called Burke. And Neal's not thinking about him. Not at all.

 _(Still, that ripped jacket gave Peter a sort of wild appearance. Neal hadn't been lying - those suits really didn't do him justice at all. But with just a little effort…)_

Not thinking about Burke. Right.

He needs a distraction.

Feeling all sorts of out of balance, Neal finishes the glass of wine and starts to plan his next heist.

 **THE END**


End file.
